Punkins

Grandma's Pumpkin Patch:  this year's Beaverton

Happy October, readers.

Last year, if you'll remember, Kris and Cindy had come up with a grand ol' plan for getting all the kids their seasonal pumpkins:  a pumpkin patch in scenic Beaverton, MI.

Well, this year a repeat of this venture wasn't in the cards:  conflicting schedules made it impossible for the Whites and Houghs to coordinate a pumpkin quest in Beaverton, so Kris started looking around for pumpkin patches in the greater Midland area instead.  She came across this one place that was high-rated called "Grandma's Pumpkin Patch," just outside of town, and so today we drove out and made sure the kids could buy themselves their very own, overpriced pumpkins.

We never met this elusive Grandma, but her setup wasn't too bad.

Smurf it:

What do you think this lady is yelling at my kid?

Then there's our eight-year-old. . .

They had a lot of kid activities at this place - the usual carnival-ish sort of crafts/games, bounce houses, hay rides, etc. - so here we have Kris doing some mental math, trying to determine how much crap our kids are actually going to do and how many tickets she'll have to end up buying.

Face painting (usually a fan favorite, we steered the kids far clear of this attraction - that wasn't worth two dollars for something that would wipe off in a few hours.)

Goats belong behind fences.  You heard me, Ghana.

These are always kid magnets.  I don't get it.

(If you'll look closely, you can see Kris and offspring ascending this wooden thingy to the right, there.)

This turkey had a really shitty attitude.  Relax, bro.

See that wagon in the background?  That's for a hayride through the cornfield.  It left every 15 minutes, so I hopped in line to save our spot (I was more than happy to do so - as much fun as it is to repeatedly say, "Don't put your hand near the cow's mouth" and all.)

Spot the handsome dad, guys.

The Cannonball.  Again, with this.

While I was waiting saving our spot in line for the hayride, Kris and the girls found a monster truck. . .

If my Focus had tires like this on it, I wouldn't mind driving it in the snow so much.

Finally on the hay wagon. . .

Into the wild. . .

A random broken-down truck in the middle of the woods.  Who knows why.

Oh, you can bet your asses the Houghs checked this out. . .

I'm not going to lie:  we all thoroughly enjoyed this.  I could watch this all day long. 

Geese weren't as fun to watch as the pigs, but still better than waiting in line for a hayride.

After twenty minutes or so at the races, we swung out to let the kids pick out their pumpkins, on the other side of the farm.

Knowing that these things were going to be comically over-priced (they were), we let the girls each pick out one, small pumpkin.  We always buy our large, carve-able ones from Jack's or Meijer.

It always seems to take Alayna a little longer to pick something out than Abby.  Where Abby will pick up the first thing she spots and swear by it, Alayna will methodically take her time going over multiple selections before finally settling upon one.  She gets that from me.

Abby's pumpkin.

Alayna's pumpkin.

Ponies.  We didn't do this.

The weigh station. 

Stopping on our way out of Grandma's joint in order to have the kids pose inside this giant cornucopia for a fall-ish photo op. . .

I could fill albums with pictures like this. . .

- Brian

F*** the British

Happy Independence Day, America.

For the Houghs, the Fourth of July is day to be spent outside - sweating in red, white, and blue clothing, before an evening of lighting sparklers and watching the neighbors shoot off stockpiles of illegal fireworks.  We're not unAmerican or anything, but few could consider us 'Merca!-chanting patriots - we don't buy into the hype all that much.  Most Americans today don't seem to realize that the 4th of July really isn't Independence Day anyway:  only a handful of leaders signed off on the re-drafted Declaration in July of '76 - nearly everyone else waited until much, much later to sign it 'cause they didn't want to sign their own death warrants.

In an effort to give some meaning to the holiday, I recently tried explaining the American Revolutionary War to Alayna, but apparently my five-year-old has a hard time grasping the concepts of Taxation Without Representation and Colonial Imperialism.  Maybe next year.

Anyway, as usual, our Independence Day started off with a morning/afternoon outing to Osprey Park.  Then, once the kids woke up from naps, it was time for swimming and hanging out in the backyard before the evening's barrage of fireworks, sparklers, and preschool freakouts.

So here it is:  Independence Day, Hough-style.

Enjoy:

Arriving at Osprey Park.  Consider our kids 'pumped.'

Osprey Park of Hunter's Creek.  Sadly, their pets are still struggling in their fight for independence.

Miniature flags?  These kids are fans.

Watching some shitty country-rock band.  They were terrible.

Concession stands, crappy game booths, and free-crap-distributing vendors.  Happy Fourth of July, everybody!

A Justice League bounce house. . . which Abby has no interest in entering.

I think it'd be awesome to throw my kids down this thing. . .

Watching Alayna's progress

Back to the JLA bounce house, where Abby finally manned up.

Picking out free sunglasses from some church's booth.

Abby gets her hair 'dyed' pink. . . for $3.  I guess its a good cause, but still. . . you can buy your own can of hair coloring spray for that.

We didn't know if this was a boy or a girl dying Abby's hair.  Kris referred to it as a 'her' while speaking to Abby during the hair-coloring process, and was immediately worried she made a mistake.  What do you think it is?

Prowling for more free crap.

Touch ups

Alayna really wanted her face painted this year, so we relented and let her do it. . . 

By the early afternoon, our kids were exhausted, fuming sweatballs.

Alayna's butterfly

Getting funned out. . .

Arguably the shittiest carnival game of them all. . .

We spent nearly $8 on this stupid game, and all we had to show for it was two gummy-Nerds ropes, two pens, and two of those sticky-hand-on-a-string things, and a ghetto stuffed animal. . . all of which couldn't have cost, collectively, more than $2 to manufacture.

Heading back to the Tactical Family Transport Vehicle, after a long day in the sun. . .

Hey America, look - Kris is texting while driving.  This is against the law.

Post-Nap Time Pop Its in the driveway

Yours Truly shows Alayna - was incredibly crabby upon waking up - how to throw Pop Its

Grumps

Helping Abby detonate her Pop Its

Later on, after swimming and hanging out around the house, we went with the usual 'restaurant' method of giving the girls mix-and-match foods they seem to eat so well (a trick we learned from Mom). . .

Mini cheese pizzas, apples with peanut butter, strawberry cream cheese on graham crackers, and some veggies.  Not a BBQ, - and not very Fourth of July-ish - but hell. . . the kids ate it the crap out of it, so we'll take it.

Abby gets weird. . .

. . . as if Alayna's 'Scary Face' wasn't creepy enough without the facepaint.

Around 8pm, people started shooting off fireworks throughout Ginger Mill. . .

While we watched our neighbors shoot off very impressive pyrotechnics, we Houghs stuck to our traditional arsenal of sparklers, fountain of colored sparks, and the like. . .

The street lights prevented better firework pictures for the most part, but in person they were pretty impressive - the display we viewed tonight was just as good - if not better - than the city fireworks display we used to get back home in Clare and Farwell.  People down here try and out-do each other with illegal fireworks, and drop thousands of dollars into their displays, which last way into the night. . .

The girls were pretty spooked by all the loud noise going off over our house, so we left the garage door open and they came out once and awhile. . . we didn't want to push them.

These are from a house a few doors down the street (that's our front yard palm)

Watching fireworks in the opposite direction

- Brian